Open Window

a poem by Dylan Ecker


You told me to stay

away. You told me

to lift the cobbled thatch

to watch how ants lie

in catacombs not much

different from our own.

You told me to study

the sunken soil. So


I did. I loosened

my tiny shirts, my

cinched jeans. I listened

to the pooling call

of a cliff swallow.

I let sunflecks rumba

on my thin arms.


Now, sagebrush sprawls

where my hair used to be.

An open window for a heart.

A stand of aspen for a ribcage.


The Kootenai River loops

into my veins and I

trace the echoing slosh

of a muddy blood riptide.

Hear it? It is what I am

going to do with

this whorled life.


Let me tell you

all I’ve learned.

A tree stays in one place.

A daffodil does not move.

A beaver builds a dam

and never leaves.

Love is just the same.